I decided to finally jump into the world of Hayffie Fanfic. allonsysilvertongue encouraged me to write some Hayffie stuff a while back, but with her and a bunch of others writing Hayffie so good it hurts, it's intimidating. That being said, I've fallen into a major writing slump, and became inspired to use Hayffie to get me free writing and rediscovering the fun of getting words down. Forgive me if my Hayffie is OOC…

My prompt came from 642 Things to Write About: "I can't go into this right now, but if I could, I'd tell you this…"

After the Toasting, Haymitch walks Effie back to his house a few doors down, across a jagged path no one had bothered repairing when the war ended.

"I'm just…so proud of them. They are still my victors," Effie smiles softly, a few blond curls falling from her bun.

Haymitch's coat is tattered, shirt barely tucked into his pants and scuffed boots. His hair made all the more unruly by the November winter wind.

Effie, plain by Capitol standards, carried the radiance of rose quartz in a coat of the same hue that looked only slightly weathered. A simple dress covered in flowers, and black high heels. If she went into town, everyone would still stare.

Haymitch tucks his hands into his coat pockets, one hand clutching an empty bottle to quell the impulse to play with the curls at the nape of her neck.

"'Bout time the girl came to her senses and stopped being so damn bullheaded."

Effie smirks, "Oh like someone else I know?"

"Touche, Sweetheart."

"It was lovely to finally experience a Toasting. I didn't expect to feel so sentimental,"

Effie says, her voice, hazy around the edges.

"Yeah well, I don't find excessive Capitol shindig's sentimental either. It's all we have."

"Please excuse me, I didn't mean to imply…" Effie laughs nervously, "I wasn't trying to be offensive. I don't want to fight with you, Haymitch."

"Is that why you only come 'round once a year?"

"After everything, I thought it best."

"Did you ask if we wanted you to stay there?"

"Can't you just walk with me for a while before I catch my train?"

Haymitch tenses. "It's dangerous, Effie. If you leave now, it'll be the wee hours before you get back there."

Effie waves away his concerns, "Nonsense. Unrest has reduced considerably since the trials finished. And, well, it's nothing worse than…"

There it was. What Haymitch had been waiting for since he rescued her. The reason her voice held the haze of one who had spent too much time screaming. Her eyes, the most beautiful shade of blue, like the beaches in District 4, now only beginning to regain their spark.

"Than what, Eff?" Haymitch pauses in the middle of the path, watching her.

"Please, Haymitch, I just…I can't get into this right now," Effie raises her hands defensively.

"Why not?" Haymitch takes her hand and pulls her closer, "Why not, Sweetheart?"

"Because it's long gone."

Haymitch frowns, shaking his head at that incredible lie. It was as long gone as the sound of his girl, his brother, and his mother dying in the arena every night."

"There's not enough liquor in the world to make it over, Eff."

She squeezes his hand between hers, "I don't blame you anymore…"

Haymitch pushes her away from him, grabbing her forearms in a tight grip, "I can't keep watching you get back on that train."

Effie's eyes gleam up at him before looking anywhere but. He keeps trying to catch her eyes, but they only linger for a second before settling to his chest.

"You left me, Haymitch."

Haymitch had been waiting for this for so long he almost felt relieved. He didn't have to grapple with this on his own anymore.

Effie tries to shrug out of his grasp, but he holds her still.

"I knew we weren't ever going to be friends. I would always be an outsider. A symbol of everything you hated snatching away what you hold dear. But I hated seeing those children in the arena every season…having no greater assurance than the color gold, and in the end even that was to my detriment, wasn't it?"

"I know you hated it, Sweetheart—"

Effie's eyes burn a hole right through his chest, "But you left me. You couldn't have warned me, Haymitch? Did you believe me so inconsequential that I couldn't perceive the fires stirring in the districts?"

"I was keeping you safe."

Haymitch's hands slide down her arms, as he sinks into himself, deflating under failed intentions. He couldn't keep his family safe. Not Katniss, or Peeta…Now he couldn't look at her.

"And then…you rescued me."

"Fine job I did of that, huh Sweetheart?" Haymitch pulls out the empty bottle, uncorks it and brings it to his lips before realizing it's empty, and sending it crashing to shards on the pathway.

Effie starts as it shatters. "I hated you, Haymitch. And then Plutarch came to visit me after counseling one day, and do you know what he said? He told me how hard you fought when Alma Coin thought we were just pawns in her war."

Haymitch smirks at the haughty, quintessentially Effie, tone her voice took whilst mentioning Coin.

"So, I decided I could still be cross with you, after all, you take every opportunity to be crude and uncourteous. But I couldn't hate you anymore. I'm just…We're exhausted, aren't we?"

Haymitch takes her hands again, allowing his thumbs to caress their undersides, pulling her closer until he could rest his forehead on her shoulder. He feels her run her fingers through his hair, and allows his lips to brush the side of her neck. As he wraps his arms around her, her scent, a comforting mix of lavender and vanilla, they fought the part of him that wanted to drown himself in something clear and potent.

"I wonder when you will stop being so bloody bullheaded and just ask me."

Haymitch smiles to himself as she throws his own words back at him. He wouldn't have to wait for news from the kids because he was too drunk to call. Too guarded to write. He wouldn't have to watch her board the train and steel himself to the platform in wait for the incoming train carrying the only escape the nightmares craved. Or watch the scars carve themselves, uninvited, into her skin while he pretended to sleep. If he could be brave…

Haymitch knit his fingers between hers and they walked to the end of path.